


Clearing the Air

by moonmoth (greyvvardenfell)



Series: Moth & Raven [46]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:08:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23588146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyvvardenfell/pseuds/moonmoth
Summary: Before they move out of Vesuvia, Reyja and Julian stop at the Lazaret to clear the air.
Relationships: Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Julian Devorak/Original Character(s)
Series: Moth & Raven [46]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696501
Kudos: 7





	Clearing the Air

The sea laps sleepily at the stout pilings under the dock, its whispers barely stirring the quiet evening. Ships at anchor on the other side of the harbor creak and groan as their hulls move with the tide, but on our side, protected by the curl of the jetty and the islands in the bay, all is calm. **  
**

Our boots crunch on gravel, then sand, then strike the salty old boards we came to revisit. Julian hesitates the moment his heels come down on wood instead of solid ground and his hand tightens around mine.

“This is close enough, isn’t it? Surely we don’t need to go all the way out to the end.”

I pause. Even in the darkness, he’s pale. There are foul memories here, for both of us. “It’s up to you, Juley. We’re not going to have another chance to clear the air, though.”

Nothing but the noise of the waves. He’s thinking hard. Tomorrow we leave Vesuvia for our new home inland, a decently-sized city called Patova. It’s close enough to still technically fall under Nadia’s jurisdiction, but far enough away that it takes all day to travel to. She’s already gotten us in touch with the governor, determined that we should be friends. I think she just wants someone else to deal with us for a little while, and honestly? I don’t blame her. Portia wasn’t kidding when she said Julian was a handful. I’m sure someone might have said the same about me, if I’d had anyone who knew me well enough. Now the only one who can vouch for that is chewing his lip, eyes flashing from me to the pier and back, shifting nervously from foot to foot and making the planks complain.

“I don’t know, darling, it’s not like, ahhh… it’s not like we’re leaving forever. We’ll be back for, mm, birthdays and formal events and the like. Maybe a day trip here and there?”

“Sure.” I step closer to him and wrap my arms around his waist. “But what are the odds you’ll want to do this any of those times, if you don’t even want to do it now?”

He blinks down at me, one hand rising to pet my hair. After a long, heavy silence, he clears his throat and chuckles. “You know me so well, love.”

I smile and he smiles back. “I just want to make sure we tie up all the loose ends we can before we go. The Lazaret might not even be here next time we are, so—”

“And good riddance to it.”

Nadia announced her plans to have the crematorium torn down and a memorial garden planted on the island in its place at the commencement of last month’s Flower Festival. Julian cheered the loudest of anyone in attendance, like he hadn’t helped draw up the designs for it from the beginning. It was wonderful to see him so happy, but there’s pain he hasn’t shed yet. Part of him will always see its smokestacks when he looks at this horizon, unless he comes to terms with it now, while the building still stands. 

“I know, ‘Bee. Believe me, I do.”

After all, one of the names listed on the many plaques within that memorial garden will be mine.

He sighs. “Oh, Reyja. My darling, dearest, beautiful Reyja. For so long I wallowed in that dismal chapter of my life. Every time I breathed, I smelled the smoke, tasted the ash in the air. We all did. But part of me relished it, because any of those breaths might have had a piece of you inside.” Shaking his head, he looks out to sea and traces the jagged black outline of the Lazaret with his eyes. “The only scrap I thought I’d get. I hated to cough, in case I lost what could’ve been you once. I know I sound like a fool, and a disturbed one at that, but I was desperate. And grieving, I think, now that I look back on it. I just couldn’t believe I’d been so careless, or accept that you were really gone. I, ah, I had a tendency to do that, in those days.”

I lean my head on his chest and snuggle closer. “What, decide what reality is and not listen to anything else?” I hope he can hear the laughter in my voice.

He strokes my cheek before settling his arms around my shoulders, his coat covering us both despite the balminess of the spring night. “Exactly. With you, with Asra… with myself, even.”

“There’s a fine line between stubbornness and perseverance.”

“Mmm.” Julian tilts my face up to look into my eyes and smiles. “And I stubbornly persevered through my own misery for three years, thinking myself a murderer and worse. But then who should I stumble upon but you?”

“You did a little more than stumble, Juley. As I recall, you fell face-first onto my floor after knocking down a bunch of my stuff.”

“Yes, well…” His cheeks are turning that shade of red I love so much. “I’ve still got a bit too much limb, perhaps.”

I hum happily. “You have just the right amount of limb for me.”

His blush deepens and he laughs, pulling me into a tighter embrace. He doesn’t seem to mind my hands falling lower, skating across his lower back. 

“I would’ve thought the Lazaret’s power broken by now,” he says softly, swaying with me in a gentle dance to the sound of the sea. “Through all the machinations Asra and I concocted, and the Devil and Hanged Man’s magic, you’re returned to me. I’m happier than I’ve ever been, truly. But there’s still a gnawing in my stomach when I see that damned silhouette out there in the bay. I don’t understand it, darling.” He lifts his head from mine and holds me at arm’s length, staring at me plaintively. “Will I ever be free of this weight?”

Julian’s dramatics aren’t just for show. Not all the time, anyway. He really thinks like that, in tropes and declarations, symbols and sacrifices. To get to him, you have to speak his language. That’s at least part of why we work so well together: I’m very fluent in Julianese. 

“You didn’t just lose one person, lovely. You lost hundreds. Thousands, maybe.” I smooth the sleeves of his coat and anchor my hands on his wrists, holding his grip against my shoulders. “You might have mourned my loss, but your heart still aches for all the rest. Whether you knew them like you knew me or not, you took responsibility for them, and in your mind, you failed them. But you did the best you could.”

“It wasn’t enough.”

I knew he was going to say that. My poor Jujubee. “Wasn’t it?”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, but he has no answer for me. In the wake of his silence, I raise my hand to stroke the soft skin under his plagued eye. He’s not as tired as he used to be, after a few good years of solid sleep and regular meals. He pushes himself so hard, though, still paying penance for a crime he never committed.

A single tear drips from the corner of his eye and flows down my thumb. My own heart aches for him, for all the pain he’s never allowed himself to let go of.

“I think it’s time.”

His watery gaze flies to mine, fearful. “I… I can’t,” he whispers. “I’m not ready.”

“You’ve done so many impossible things. Risen from the dead, fought the Devil and won, cured an incurable disease… what’s one more for the road?”

“I didn’t cure anything.”

“Julian.”

He startles at my change in tone. I never like getting harsh with him, but I need him to listen, really listen, to what I’m about to say. 

“Have I ever lied to you?”

Confused, he shakes his head.

“Right. And I’m not lying to you now.” I cup my hands around the back of his neck and look deep into his eyes. “You, Julian Pavlovich Devorak, went above and beyond the call of duty when the Red Plague struck Vesuvia. You worked tirelessly, day and night, caring for patients well beyond your district’s boundaries and doing research into the background of the plague on top of that. Even without your past acquaintance with Lucio, the palace would’ve noticed your dedication and summoned you when he got sick, I’m sure of it. You’re the one who tracked its path from the steppes to here—”

“Nazali—”

“No, _you_. Nazali’s research was invaluable for protecting you, and the other doctors working with sick patients, but _your_ findings led to the cure in the end. You figured out it was Lucio. You did that, Juley!”

He shifts and averts his eyes. “Not by myself.”

“Who cares! Has anyone ever done anything completely alone? Nazali, since you brought them up, cited Panchali Taj’s beetle anatomy reports like ten times just in the introduction of their dissertation! Are you gonna get all on them for not doing their own entomological dissections?”

“… no.”

“Juley. Hey.” When he still doesn’t look at me, I gather him into another hug and sigh, squeezing him tight. He resists for only a moment before folding his arms around my shoulders and resting his cheek on the top of my head. “Everyone over there, whose weight you’re still carrying around…” I murmur into his chest, “I think they forgave you a long time ago. It’s time to cut yourself the same slack you cut everyone else. You’re only human, Jujubee. And you saved so many.”

He’s quiet for a long time. I feel his shoulders shaking, hot tears leaking onto my skin as he cries. All I can do is rub his back and wait for him. I know it’s a lot to process.

Eventually, he sniffles. The weight of his head on mine lifts, replaced by a gentle hand as he smooths my hair. “Do you truly think they’ve forgiven me, darling?” Julian asks in a small voice. He risks a glance over his shoulder at the dark void of the Lazaret’s silhouette. 

I smile and kiss the inside of his wrist. “Why wouldn’t they? You made sure their families and friends would be safe, and did all you could for them.”

“I… I suppose I did.”

“I know you did.”

He turns around fully, staring across the water for the first time since we got here. “Erm… he-hello, spirits!” he calls, half-waving to the distant island. “It’s me, ah, your former doctor! Doctor Devorak! Julian!" 

I slip under his arm for moral support, still hugging him close. Talking to ghosts isn’t one of his strongest suits, but it’s for his benefit, not theirs. Being dead has a way of putting things in perspective.

"I’m, mm, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to visit,” Julian continues, speaking loudly and clearly into the warm evening air. “The land of the living has kept me very busy! B-but, err, I’m here now, to, to pay my respects, and, ah, and to wish you… wish you all the best?” He shakes his head and leans down. “Darling, what does one say to ghosts?”

“You’re doing fine, lovely.” I don’t want to put words in his mouth. I’ve pushed him enough today as it is. 

He sighs, but nods and straightens up again. “Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you, for entrusting me with your treatment. And for, a-ha, for not haunting me when it all went sour. I'm…” he pauses, swallows, and presses on, determined. “I’m a better man now, because of all of you. And I won’t forget what a gift that is. Every one of you deserved better than you got in the end, and I apologize so very, very much for what befell you. Know that you are and will be remembered by the people of Vesuvia, and by me, and, ahh…”

I look up at him when he trails off. Though his voice was strong, his eyes sparkle with new tears in the light of the rising moon. Slowly, he reaches out to run his fingertips down my cheek, smiling at the warmth of my skin. 

“And thank you for keeping my dearest Reyja company when I couldn’t.”

That’s the kindest he’s ever been to himself when talking about my death. I can hardly believe it. No blame, no shame… he’s come so far.

Julian squares his shoulders and turns away from the Lazaret, wiping his eyes. I let my gaze linger over the harsh lines for a few heartbeats more before joining him, meshing my fingers with his when he offers me his hand. 

“Ready to go?” I ask. 

He knows I mean more than just going home for the night. Go to Patova, to the distant southern ice fields, to the other side of the world, if we wanted. Vesuvia has no hold on us now. He grins. “My love, with you at my side, I’m free as a bird.”


End file.
